


Another World, A Better World

by saintwrites



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Apocalypse, Blood, Character Death, Dystopia, M/M, andtrick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2564486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintwrites/pseuds/saintwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Andy only shook his head as he grabbed desperately at Patrick’s hand, keeping it pressed against his face. </p><p>“Don’t you lie to me either.” He said, teeth clenched. “Don’t you lie to me and tell me I’ll be okay. I can’t do this without you Patrick. I fucking can’t.” </p><p>Set in a dystopian era, Patrick is caught in the cross fire of a riot in the city. With the world around him fading fast he and Andy only have moments together before it all comes to an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another World, A Better World

**Author's Note:**

> Look I'm just gonna apologize now.
> 
> If you'd like to help support me you can do so here! <3 http://ko-fi.com/clandestine

All they could hear was the ever present sound of sirens, shouting and rolls of thunder echoing across the grey streaked sky. Andy pulled back a tattered curtain, of the abandoned house they were in, looking around at the chaos. The rioting had been going on for six days straight. The longest it’s ever been. Usually it came and went in loud, erratic bursts but for some reason the discord continued growing more and more dangerous by the second. This wasn’t anything new though, nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.

A cry of pain to his left broke his thoughts and Andy dropped down. “Patrick.” He breathed out, crouching down beside him. The other man was on the ground, his hands pressed down against an open wound on his stomach, blood pooling around him. Andy almost didn’t hear his quiet, mumbled complaints, any sound being drowned out by the rain pounding on the roof. “Hey, hey easy.” He said as he adjusted Patrick’s head onto his lap. 

The pair had been trying to make a break for it. Heading from one base to the next, if anything to get out of the situation on the streets. But Patrick had been caught in the crossfire. Neither one of them were sure what hit him, a bullet, maybe a few. Something sharp but blunt. All he knew was that Patrick was losing blood. Fast. 

“It hurts.” Patrick said through gritted teeth as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Fuck, Andy-”

“Shh sh, try not to talk or move so much okay?” Andy soothed him as he ran a hand across Patrick’s forehead, pushing the bangs away from his face. He bent down and placed a kiss on the crown of his head before looking around. It was then that lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the house. “Shit.” Andy cursed quietly. 

“We need to get a hospital.” Patrick grunted as he tried to sit up some, but Andy pushed him back down. 

“The storms too bad and there’s still people running like wolves all over the place. We’d never make it.” As much as he’d love to haul Patrick up in his arms and run to the nearest hospital it’d be impossible. Andy would run for miles if it meant keeping Patrick safe and alive but in this case there just wasn’t any way. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

Patrick lifted a weak hand and pointed to their pack across the room. It’d been thrown hazardously to the side when they first came in to escape. Very gingerly Andy lifted his head and set it back down against the floor. He moved and grabbed the pack tearing it open until he found the first aid. Inside was a knife, thread, a needle, tweezers and other various things they needed when the situation called for it. 

“Andy.” Patrick called quietly, he moved to sit up on his elbows, one hand still resting on the wound. “Andy I don’t think I’m-”

“Shut up.” It came out harsher than he intended it to but Andy couldn’t help it. “You’re gonna be alright, okay?” He said softer this time. Moving Patrick’s shirt to the side and clicked on a flashlight from the pack to get a better look at the wound. The moment the beam of light passed over it he could feel all the color drain from his face. It was worse than they thought.

“What?” Patrick strained, his breath growing more and more ragged by the second.

“Nothing.” Andy shook his head and set to work. He clenched the light between his teeth as he grabbed a rag and water bottle to clean up the open gash. Sweat trickled down his face as he kept trying to clean the blood away but it wouldn’t stop. The wound was long and deep, cutting across the flesh. Andy wasn’t even sure if stitches would work. His hands were shaking as he reached for another rag when suddenly Patrick’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

His grip was weak but it made Andy stop long enough to look down at him, taking the flashlight and setting it to the side. “Don’t lie to me.” Patrick said, tone a little broken. “You promised you’d never lie to me.” 

Andy moved so he clutched his hand, lacing their fingers together. He could feel the threat of tears forming, before he dropped down pressing his forehead against Patrick’s. The first sob broke as drops fell from his eyes down across the other man’s cheeks. “Patrick I- I don’t know if- I’m sorry.”

Patrick reached his free hand up, it was coated with blood but he pressed his palm to Andy’s cheek. He lifted up pressing their lips together. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Andy only shook his head as he grabbed desperately at Patrick’s hand, keeping it pressed against his face. 

“Don’t you lie to me either.” He said, teeth clenched. “Don’t you lie to me and tell me I’ll be okay. I can’t do this without you Patrick. I fucking can’t.” 

Patrick smiled softly, tears streaking endlessly down his face as the blood continued to pool around them. “Remember when we were younger,” he began, voice cracked and breathless. “We used to sit in your room and listen to those old records. You sang so loudly and you always told me you hated your voice.”

Andy nodded, a hollow laugh echoing from his throat. “Yeah, I remember.” He had piles and piles of old vinyls lying around. He never sang for anyone but Patrick, even now. “But everyone knows you had the best voice this damned world ever listened to.” 

“You never give yourself enough credit for anything.” Patrick said, shaking his head. He coughed and a bit of blood bubbled up from his lips. Andy wiped it away before placing a kiss against the spot. “I loved hearing you sing but you haven’t sang in such a long time.” He moved his hand from Andy’s cheek draping it across his stomach. “One last time. Please.” 

“Don’t talk like that.” Andy said, voice strained. “I’ll have plenty of time to sing whatever stupid song you want when we get back home.” 

Patrick shook his head again unable to help the look of pain etched across his face. “You’re too much of an optimist for your own good.” He coughed again, more blood dribbling down his chin. Andy tried to wipe it away but his own hands were already streaked with blood. “Please, Andy.”

“No, Patrick I can’t-”

“Please.” His voice was desperate but demanding. Andy had never heard him like this before. Even when they had to leave their first home or when their friends were killed in front of them. Patrick had never had this tone of urgency and panic. Andy nodded, unable to do anything but comply. 

He began, softly. Something by The Smiths. One of Patrick’s favorites. Andy maneuvered them so they he was sitting up against the wall, Patrick’s head in his lap. He softly stroked his temple as he continued to sing. 

_“Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep, I’m tired and I, I want to go to bed…”_

Patrick mumbled along with him for a while, a small smile on his face and his eyes shut. After a minute he began to cough, blood coating his lips, chin and cheeks. Andy continued to wipe it away with his sleeves, the tears still falling from his eyes. He had one hand draped across Patrick’s chest the other tightly clutching his hands. 

After every lyric Patrick’s grip grew weaker and weaker, his breathing slowing. Suddenly his hand became limp in Andy’s, head drooping to the side.

“Patrick?” Andy asked quietly. “Patrick?” The second time was louder, rough. “Hey, hey no no no. Patrick, no please.” Andy shook his shoulders, trying desperately to get some kind of response. “Patrick, fuck please don’t do this. Don’t you fucking do this.” He wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging his body to his as the tears fell freely from his eyes, sobs echoing around him. 

“Don’t go.” He cried loudly, like a child. “Don’t go, don’t go. I love you. I love you so much please you have to come back I can’t do this without you. I can’t, I can’t.” He shook his head as he called out for him over and over again. But it was useless. Andy buried his face in Patrick’s hair, breathing in his scent and clutching tightly to him. As though if letting him go meant he’d turn to dust and drift away into the sky. “Patrick please, I love you. I love you so much.” He rocked back in forth, hands still hopelessly hanging on. “I love you.” His last words were drowned out by the thunder overhead as the storm carried on.


End file.
